The Long Road To Nowhere_My sweet girl_Culture Shift_A Town Called Soledad
Catalog Guide:
The Long Road To Nowhere
The Long Road To Nowhere—George Davis The old saying: ‘You can never go home’ is not a cliche. It is the truth. I should know. I was exiled from my hometown by reason of misappropriation. Let me start at the beginning. My name is Damien Barlow. I am…was the town manager of the small rural community of Bickford, Maine, a town thirty miles northwest of its largest city, Portland.I was born in Bickford; I went through the school system, graduating a year early at the age of seventeen. I never thought of myself as a great student, but I loved school and excelled in sports in high school, a fou...
My sweet girl
Madison was a fighter even from birth and through it all; her mother was always there by her side. "Mom, there's something wrong because I am hurting so bad and there is so much blood when I go to the bathroom." Her dad; like always just brushed it off and said that it was nothing but her mother knew something was wrong. "I am going to take off from work tomorrow and take Madison to the emergency room because there is something really wrong", but Madison's dad being the control freak said," No you go to work and I will take her". Madison's mom shot Madison a familiar that said he better becaus...
Culture Shift
Harry looked out his bedroom window to watch the sunrise. However, the sunrise was being significantly blocked by the Bangkok skyline. Harry let out an exasperated sigh and turned hwww.onedoor.ccis gaze down to the street three stories below his apartment. Down below, the streets were busy even though they were tucked away several blocks from any of the main highways. Everyday, Harry could spot numerous motorbikes, street vendors with carts selling various food and coffee, and students walking by with backpacks in tow. The sights seen here tended to be quite different from what Harry grew up with back in hi...
A Town Called Soledad
He held the bronze key in the blinding sunlight with his greyed-fingers. The light shown through the small loop at the head of the key. “Small thing” he muttered under his breath as he twirled the key, eyeing it with almost a sense of sorrow. “Ah, well.” He lowered his arm and tenderly placed the key on the layer of cement that he had just lathered onto the brick. Lightly pressing it into the wet cement, Ernest eyed longingly at the key, now just cushioned by the cement. His nerves hesitated and made him restless. His lips began to quiver until a small cascade of tears flowed form the edges of...